Yuyutsu - Rise of the last Kaurava

by Aniket Sharma

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  and neither shared anything with me, but her eyes spoke her agony. Albeit my father never paid heed to her presence, but she was content with his mere sight. She looked after every comfort of the king, and in return, expected nothing. She was always pleased with the fact that my father gave me rights equal to a son. She was happy seeing me learning and growing with other princes of the palace. But she was shattered when my father walked out of this palace and didn’t ask for her wishes. She wasn’t married to my father, but she had never seen herself without him. She always praised the glory of this kingdom and encouraged me to feel honoured about my birth. And when my father left Hastinapur, she couldn’t control her emotions. Her pain multi-folded each passing day, and one day her soul left her body. She died, leaving me in this crowded world, all alone. I am devastated that her glittering eyes couldn’t see the reflection of my rise before shutting. I wish I could reach the horizon she dreamed for me.

  “Aryaka…”, Parikshit shouts from behind. “Today’s practice is over; shall we close? My mother must be waiting for me.”, he continues. I smile back and signal him to go.

  He reminds me of the days of our childhood when we were in the gurukul of Drona. Guru Drona had ignited the sense of being Kshatriya and helped us realize our strengths. Arjuna overpowered all of us. He never left Guru alone and always fol- lowed his instructions diligently with only one dream in mind, to be the best archer on this planet. Bhima and Duryodhana fought for supremacy over each other, always. Yudhishthira was absolute calm and dedicated to learning the scriptures. He was more interested in Dharma, Karma, Rajya, Niti, and not to overpower anyone. Nakul and Sahadeva went beyond human studies and learnt the art of understanding the animals.

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  Looking at the Kauravas, I realize that all the Pandavas were always working on their skills. But Duryodhana and other brothers were enviously witnessing the growth of five broth- ers. The jealousy and stubbornness of defeating Pandavas were persistent and overpowered every other emotion. I always believed that the individual qualities of each Pandava helped them reach the zenith. Albeit they were different, together they were like different pearls shining in a garland tied by a thread. Contrary, each Kaurava was fighting for his supremacy. Amidst the two groups of brothers with extreme opposite qualities, I always stood in dilemma; which group do I belong? I, the half-brother of Kauravas, was inclined more towards the Pandavas. I firmly believe that it’s Karma and not just good luck, which helps you achieve and live your dreams. The Pandavas always proved it.

  “How is Parikshit’s training going?”, asks Yudhishthira as I vis- ited him in his apartment.

  “Up to your expectations”, I reply while bowing down and extending my greetings.

  I always had the question, why he anointed me as the mentor of Parikshit when Arjuna is around. Who can better train the young blood than Arjuna himself? Every teenager in our capital aspires to be like Arjuna. Nothing, but the best archer. But his grandson is being trained by someone else. But again, I understand that Arjuna is busy protecting the dominions of this vast country all these years. So, he’s rarely around. The army trained by him is stronger than the strongest. All soldiers are trained on difficult to conquer arrays, war strategies, and advanced weapons.

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  “O, Sire! For the past eighteen years, I am curious to know what made you select me as the mentor for Parikshit? Albeit his sires, the five Pandavas are around, why did you choose me?”, finally I asked the king today.

  He glances at me, smiles, and rises from his seat, and pats my shoulder. I look at him with extreme curiosity.

  Beholding my keenness, he speaks, “Let’s take a walk together, shall we?” “Sure” I affirm.

  “Yuyutsu, no Pandava can mentor the son of Abhimanyu better than you. United, we are a group of extraordinary men as believed by people. But individually, each of us is a slave of personal strength. We are limitless but within our boundar- ies. If one of the Pandavas became his mentor, Parikshit would have been more inclined towards the core strength of that one Pandava only. It would have led to emotional complica- tions too. Parikshit is the future of Hastinapur, and the future of Hastinapur shouldn’t confine to any boundaries.”, he speaks while we walk in the garden outside his apartment.

  “But why me?”, I ask again with more curiosity on my face. Yudhishthira sits calmly on a wooden seat in the garden,

  with a smile on his face. He looks at me and my zest.

  For the past eighteen years, Parikshit has been under my supervision. His training on war skills, learning of scriptures, and weapon handling; all has happened under my guidance. The Pandava brothers used to come, and witness the progress at times, but never intervened or advised me against my strat- egy. They never complained or even suggested any changes. I

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  ensured no stone is unturned in making Parikshit the rightful heir to the throne. In this pursuit of training Parikshit, I ignored my dream, but it still lives in my subconscious, all these years, expectations and confidence of the king on me changed the way I pursued my life. And the eagerness and enthusiasm in young Yuyutsu got transmitted into young Parikshit. A mentor always wants his disciple to outgrow him and verily I have started envisioning Parikshit as the future ruler of Hastinapur. When we see our dreams through someone else’s eyes, our dreams become strong, and we become more committed. It’s selfless love and hence is more beautiful. Maybe Yudhishthira also knew this, and thus, chose me to be a better fit for Parikshit’s mentor.

  While my thoughts occupied my mind, I continued looking at the king in search of my answer. Finally, he says, “Yuyutsu… you have been with us since the time of our gurukul days. Not just physically, but emotionally, and socially, you have sup- ported us in every imaginable way. You always lived with the dilemma of supporting which group but never got carried away with the emotions. You observed, you believed and then responded. Believing in something you observe is key in decid- ing your future. You lived with Duryodhana but tried to save Bhima from his evil plans at Pramankoti. You tried to counter your brothers at the courtroom of Hastinapur years ago. You, destined to follow your bloodline, chose to follow your wit. You beheld both the sides but remained composed. There’s no one better than you who can teach the art of being calm and balanced to the heir of this kingdom.”

  I listened intently to every word he spoke. I grasped every sentiment associated with it. There is always a hidden meaning in every message. Was it my strength, or did he want to feed my

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  emotions? Our strive for bigger goals sometimes get diverted by smaller gains. Maybe it was his way of keeping me focused when I see myself above his brothers. My struggle of triumph- ing too is diluted, by the decision of installing me as a prime mentor. “But the king can’t be right always,” I mutter within.

  Daylight starts fading gradually. Sun is happily settling in the western valley. I join my hands and bow down to the king, asking his leave. He smiles back. The smile on his face has many unknown emotions!

  The lamps are lit to light the palace. The hymns of priests and royal ladies have started for the evening prayers. After finishing my evening ablutions, I too perform my rituals. I pay regards to my forefathers and ancestors, followed by chanting of man- tras. As I finish my prayers, I see Swastika entering the room. Eighteen years, every evening, same time, Swastika never for- gets coming to my room replacing the flowers and curtains. The unguents and floral-scented water make the aroma lively. My life has become a routine in all these years. In the radiance of this mighty capital, everyone lives a gratified life. But some- times content begets struggle. It already happened once, when my father decided to walk away to the woods. And this might happen again in future.

  “Rajaji… work is over.”, says Swastika while changing the flowers in the pot.

  I know the sarcasm in her tone. It is not the first time she has taunted me by saying “Rajaji” today. It happens every evening, and she doesn’t leave any chanc
e, to sarcastically taunt me.

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  But her sarcasm reminds me of my dream of becoming the supreme power of this great kingdom. This land, ruled by my ancestors, belongs to me too; like it belongs to Yudhishthira. Be it Yayati, Dushyant or Bharata. Be it Puru, founder of this clan or Hastin, founder of this city. Be it Shantanu, Vichitravirya or Dhritarashtra, I belong to the same blood. The blood of warriors. I am no less than any of the gallants of this clan. My valiant veins have the courage of great achievers and firm aspirers.

  The similar thrive of reaching the zenith keeps me on fire. The fire is burning for eighteen years or before and will con- tinue fuelling for another eighteen years or beyond. But that is no dream which doesn’t flourish in the thunders of pessimism. Life continues with the ignition of passion. The day passion dies, life ends. I still remember the day when I committed myself for the good of this country. The acts of my brothers invited the destruction of humanity. But my one decision turned me towards the betterment of my people. But for the upliftment from the perils, one should stand on the platform of confidence. Verily, my dream gives me that confidence which keeps me alive.

  “Yuyutsu…”, the voice of Swastika brings me back from my thoughts. I turn towards her and smile.

  She smiles back and says, “Parikshit is growing fast. Like his father and grandsires, he too has become a warrior. He truly aspires to be the future of this kingdom, and you too are very thorough in his learnings. If Abhimanyu inherited the quali- ties of Pandavas, Parikshit imbibed the strengths given by you. He is becoming stronger each passing day and undoubtedly pushing you away from your dream.”

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  “What do you want to say? Are you praising or condemning me?” I reply to her comments.

  “I am just reminding you that you too have a dream you aspired to. Remember, this land belongs to you too. Your father abstained from the chance Yudhishthira proposed once. And you missed the opportunity of getting the throne. Seems, your sire never wanted you to grow. Duryodhana was dearer to him than you. But he had forgotten that you were born as his hope. And the hopes on the reins of strengths don’t fade. Nothing can stop the sun to shine. The scattered clouds are temporary as the glory of the sun never fades. Even the lightest ray breaks the pride of darkness. Dawn progresses and eradicates the grey dusk. You, not Parikshit, will make the Hastinapur glori- ous. Remember that.”, she continues convincingly.

  “Swastika, I know who I am. I know where I belong. I know why I survived the war. The throne belongs to me, and nobody can steal it from me. I lived my life with only one aspiration. I grew with no responsibilities for me. My father didn’t expect me to shine. My brothers didn’t care about my opinions. Though I got learning opportunities equal to my brothers, nobody asked what I wanted. I am no less than Duryodhana or Bhima, in brain or brawn. The throne went to Yudhishthira because he won the battle. He will pass the legacy to Abhimanyu’s son because Parikshit is his bloodline. It has always happened and will continue to happen. The throne goes either to the son or to the one who sacrificed for the king. I did neither. The fate of a son rides on the fortunes of his father. But my father forgot to write my fate. I will have to do that.”, I speak softly.

  Swastika smiles: she is the only one who knows me and my ambitions. Her words bring solace to my racing thoughts, and

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  she continues doing it for years now. She is the only one who believes in me.

  The chanting of mantras slowly subsides. The evening prayers are over. “Aryaka… may I come in?”, a voice comes from the entrance. Parikshit enters after I nod. Swastika leaves the room carrying the remaining flowers. She glances at Parikshit while he sits on a cushioned seat.

  “What makes you visit me… O Son?”, I ask him.

  “The first phase of my learning completes tomorrow. Guru Kripa, grandfather Arjuna, and other grandsires will be around to witness the learnings I achieved in all these years under your guidance. I have heard the stories of the graduation day of mighty Pandavas. The denizens had wit- nessed the amazement with their naked eyes. My mother told me how Grandfather Arjuna created illusions with the power of his arrows, how Grandfather Bhima broke mountains with the strikes of his mace, how sires Nakul and Sahadeva showed the skills of their weapons and how grandsire Yudhishthira mesmerized everyone with his answers on different scriptures and books. I know there will be expectations in every eye looking at me tomorrow. They will compare my skills with the dexterities of my grandfather Arjuna and my father Abhimanyu.”, he speaks bemusedly while his hands joined.

  I behold the burden of expectancies in his eyes. He is young, passionate, skilful, and an achiever. He is born with blessings of Krishna and nurtured in the abode of mighty Pandavas. He

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  carries a huge liability of meeting the expectations. How easily we confine the skills in our defined boundaries! The eyes witness what the mind believes. Anything beyond the beliefs of mind becomes unacceptable. The progeny of Pandavas must reach the horizon of opinions of those who themselves live under the guardship. A king has to show his strength to ensure the citizens of his land believe in him. Tomorrow, when Parikshit will enter the field, thousands of eyes will witness their future leader and judge him on the merits which most of them don’t possess. Ironical but true!

  I look at the young-innocent boy sitting in front of me. He reminds me of Abhimanyu. He was two years younger than Parikshit when cruelty stole his life. A young boy was sacri- ficed so that the desires could survive.

  “Parikshit… O Son! Worry not. You have gone through all the training diligently, and your learnings need no stamp of approval from anyone. Your sires have full faith in you.”, I con- soled his worried mind.

  He stands up from his seat and walks closer to me. He bows down to me, sits near my feet and says, “O Master! What is it that I didn’t learn in these years of training?”

  “The scriptures, Vedas, war forms, weapon handling skills, battle strategies, life learnings, you have undergone intensive training for all. But, if you have any questions left in your mind, feel free to ask. I will try answering to the best of my under- standing.”, I tell him, putting my hand on his shoulder. I see the confusion sitting on his face. The human quests are never-end- ing. They are the fuel to keep the life engine going. “Ask, my dear son!” I repeat.

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  With probably hundreds of thoughts racing in his mind, he nods his head and asks his first question, “Master! What is that which is born but has no death?”

  “Birth is the inception of life. Every form of life lives for its purpose. When the purpose gets completed, the soul departs. Days end with the sun’s setting and Nights end with the sun’s rising. Sorrow ends with pleasure, and pleasure ends when sorrow comes. All accumulations end with exhaustion, all ascents end with fall. All associations end with dissociation, and all actions end at the destruction. All that is born is certain to die, but the one thing which has no end is Knowledge. Knowledge passes on from one form to another, from one generation to another and from one soul to another. It helps to devoid from egoism and leads to the tranquillity of the soul.”, I reply.

  “What are the elements of life?”

  “Earth, Water, Light, Wind, Ether, Mind and Knowledge are seven elements of life. Earth is the source of all smells, Water of all tastes. Light is the source of all colours, Wind of all sen- sations. Likewise, Ether or space is the source of all sound. The mind is the source of all doubts, and knowledge is the source of firmness. The amalgamation of all these elements is known as sevenfold creation, life.”

  He listens to my words patiently like a disciplined seeker. I smile looking at his innocent face and signal him to ask further.

  Parikshit asks, “How can humans ascertain biggest virtues?”

  “By controlling Darkness, Passion, and Goodness within the self. When the first one of these is higher, the other

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  two subsides. The measure of these qualities defines the order of creatur
es. All of these, though opposite, but live together in every living form. Humans of intelligence, balance these elements to be virtuous and follow their Dharma.”

  “What is Dharma?”

  “Dharma is righteousness. Dharma is one’s duty. It is a sense of judging right and wrong. It is the intelligence of choosing the path of virtue and following it firmly. It gives strength to humility and truthfulness. It abstains humans from enmity and jealousy and installs amity.”

  “What is righteousness?” questions Parikshit.

  “Following one’s determination with no evil desire and no enmity on peers.”

  “What is evil?” he probes further.

  “Eyeing on other’s wealth, becoming envious of other’s success, disrespecting the emotions of others, and believing in only self-supremacy is evil.” I continue to respond.